A Most Unfortunate Miracle
by Rhodark
Summary: A short oneshot that I wrote in my spare time. Finally found a good title.


_A tall beast stood atop a large pillar in the middle of a barren wasteland. The beast was as tall as two men, and almost as wide, it's rough, battle-hardened skin was covered in a deep coat of thick, musty, unkempt fur. It's feet we're hooved, yet he did not walk on all fours like other hooved beasts. It had horns, two of them, protruding from his forehead, one on each side. _

_It's clothes were primitive by human standards, a simple leather kilt and vest, dyed very unproffesionally in a sporadic pattern with red dye... or could that have been blood? It mattered not. It carried but a single weapon, a shoddy wooden long-bow, carved from what looked like the wood of one of the few trees of the barrens. No good timber is found in the barrens, especially not by a bowyer's standards._

_The Pillar it stood upon would seem to be nothing less than gigantic, though that is just an illusion brought on by the amazing drop in elevation between it and the mainland. In reality the pillar stood only a few feet, if that, above sea level. The pillar was made entirely of dull brown clay and a lighter brown bedrock, possibly sandstone, stacked upon each other over millenia of sedimentary depositing and blowing sand. _

_The wasteland below the pillar was just that, a wasteland, even the harsh savanas of the Barrens seemed hospitable in comparison. The only vegitation seemed to be shrubs, bushes, and tumbleweeds, and the single consentration of water visible seemed to be poisonous and infested with demons, or perhaps elementals of some form._

_The aforementioned beast's gaze never left the general area of the Great Lift that had recently been stolen from it and it's people. It seemed to be silently contemplating something. As if he was in turmoil over wether or not to take some sort of action. _

_Then another beast, this one somewhat thinner and cleaner looking came up to the first beast, this one was wearing a long green robe, so it can be assumed this is a female, or perhaps a spell caster... or perhaps both. It laid a hand on the male and seemed to speak some words in their primitive tounge to it. The male beast then seemed to lose its complating posture and decided upon something. _

_What it was that it decided would soon be seen, as it picked an arrow from the ground below where a large stack of them happened to be bundled up. It held the tip of the arrow, who's head seemed to be made from simple wood instead of stone or metal like others, up to the flame of a burning lamp two paces away from it - the combined length of it's arm and the arrow allowed it to do this without taking a step. _

_The arrow caught fire and burned gently at just the tip, not engulfing the entirety of the arrow instantaneously as would be expected. The beast seemed to smile, as though he had accoplished something. It noched the arrow in it's bow and pulled the string back as far as it could go, and then some more. It seemed to push the bow to it's limits, as if to try to send the damn flaming thing into orbit. Finally, with the bow creaking and the string at the very limit of it's endurance, the stupid beast let the arrow fly, as if wishing to hit the Lift well over two-hundred meters from itself._

_Something strange happened then, the arrow, which did not seem to have any particular special qualities, nor any magical properties outwardly observable, it defied the thirteenth law of Gnomish physics. Instead of traveling to it's maximum distance than arcing downward, it continued in a straight line, totally undetered by gravity or air pressure. It traveled at an amazing speed, yet the flame would not be snuffed. It simply moved forward, unimpeded by any or all forces that would normally stop it. _

_Finally, the arrow was stopped, but not by gravity, by the caynon wall 200 meters from it's starting point. The arrow's accuracy was, unfortunantly, as miraculous as it's trajectory had been. It just nipped the rope which pulled the Lift up and down, and the flames crawled up and down from the point impact. Within seconds the rope was entirely disentegrated, and the twin lifts which gave the Great Lift its name lay on the canyon floor, broken and destroyed._

_But the destruction did not end there, for the flames had amazingly caught onto the structure that supported the lifts, and in minutes every plank of wood used to build the wonderous piece of primitive engineering lay in smoldering ashes at the bottom of the canyon floor._

_General Rheban was not happy, that much I can tell you._

_Exerpt from the diary of Marcus Generen, Private in the Alliance Military, witness to the First Battle of Freewind Post, greatest and only loss for the Alliance in the Fourth War against the vile Horde._

**A/N: Just a short oneshot that crept into my mind. Takes place outside of Thousand Needles (like you didn't figure that out), in the **_**'dream world' **_**of Rhodark, the main character of my other story, The Last Miner of Elwynn. Please R&R, I hope it didn't suck.**


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